


Lies Behind Stars

by O4amuse



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Rating May Change, Season/Series 11, The Darkness - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/O4amuse/pseuds/O4amuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Men of Letters didn't work alone. There was the Judah Initiative in Germany and the Kingsmen in the UK, for a start. And, in the face of the Darkness, it's time for them to work together.</p><p>Of course, the Winchesters have never exactly been team players...</p><p>*CURRENTLY ON HOLD*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies Behind Stars

**Author's Note:**

> "It lies behind stars and under hills,  
> And empty holes it fills,  
> It comes first and follows after,  
> Ends life, kills laughter.”  
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

The phone rang whilst Dean was replacing a lightbulb in the map table. Not his mobile, or Sam’s, or Cas’. This was an intrusive, high clattering ring, and it was coming from the bank of instruments. He clambered to his feet, frowning. There was a red light flashing on the desk, next to an old-fashioned handset. He looked at it as though it might bite him, then lifted it cautiously.

  “Hello?”

  “I would like to speak to Samuel Winchester, please.” The man’s voice was rich, plummy, unmistakably British. The line crackled slightly, like an old movie.

  “Who is this?”

  “The London office. Kindly put Samuel on the line.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy.” Dean looked up as Sam entered, eyebrows raised as he took in the scene. “Not until you tell me who you are, and how the hell you got this number.”

  “My name would mean nothing to you, Mr. Winchester, and we have always had this number.”

  “Who is it?” Sam asked.

  Dean covered the mouthpiece. “The London office, whatever the fuck that means. They wanna talk to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah.” He proffered the handset and Sam raised it slowly.

  “Hello?... Who’s asking?... What does that mean?... What agent?... And that’s supposed to make us trust you?... I’ve only got your word for that… Okay, when?” Sam signalled to Dean for a pen and paper. “Thursday, 3:48, Tulsa International, got it… Yeah, no promises.” He put the phone down and stared at it.

  “Well?” Dean said. “What the hell’s going on? I’m dying of impatience here.”

  “Apparently the Men of Letters didn’t operate alone. There’s organised groups of hunters all over the world, they said. A global network.”

  “Like the Judah Initiative?”

  “Yeah, although they were primarily in Germany. The Brits have something called the Kingsmen.”

  Dean shrugged. “I guess. So what’s happening in Tulsa?”

  “London’s sending one of their agents out to talk to us.”

  “About what?”

  “Dunno. He just said we’re all on the same side.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Usually from someone about to screw us over.” Dean looked at the piece of paper, considering. “What d’you wanna do?”

  Sam pushed his hair back. “The guy said their agent already had a key and knew where the bunker was. Calling us in advance was a courtesy.”

  “A courtesy?” Dean’s voice went up. “What an asshole.”

  “Yeah, but I think it might be worth going to meet them. Better that than have him walk in the front door when we aren’t expecting.”

  Dean pursed his lips. If they were waiting at the airport, they had the upper hand. “Fine. But we test this bastard six ways from Sunday before he sets foot inside.”

  “No argument here.”

  Dean headed towards the sleeping quarters to warn Cas about their incoming visitor, but checked at the door. “Hey, did they give you a name? We can’t keep calling him ‘agent’, it sounds like a bad spy film.”

  “Lancelot.”

  “As in, the Arthurian knight? How pretentious can you get?” Dean snorted and went to find Cas.

All three of them drove into Tulsa on Thursday. Dean managed to persuade Cas to stay with the car, in case there was trouble. Besides, the angel was still a little PTSD around people and airports were great disrespecters of personal space. They couldn’t exactly carry guns inside, not without risking shutting down the whole place, but Sam had Ruby’s knife safely tucked inside his shirt and Dean had an angel blade up his sleeve.

They loitered at the back of the Arrivals hall, and Dean tried not to think about flying. He hated these places. Life was dangerous enough on the ground - add the potential of falling several thousand feet, and it got infinitely worse. Plus there was no way of taking control in a plane. The passengers were entirely at the mercy of the pilot and a loophole in physics. It was all wrong.

  “Hey,” Sam said, “d’you think we ought to have made a welcome sign?”

  Dean snorted. “If Lancelot can’t spot a coupla hunters, he ain’t worth shit.”

  “Besides,” said a cheerful female voice from behind them, “I’ve seen your photos.” Dean and Sam spun round, reaching instinctively for their weapons. The girl raised her arms, still smiling. “Easy, boys. Let’s not get arrested just yet.”

  “Lancelot?” Sam asked, recovering first.

  “Yes. You must be Sam. Wow, you’re tall.”

  “And you’re… not what we expected,” Dean said.

She couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall, with long brown hair pulled back in a pony tail and slanted brown eyes. She was dressed in knee boots, jeans and a fitted jacket, and there were scars on the backs of her hands.

  “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” she said, then smiled. “Honestly, though, I’m not here to inquisit you.”

  “Why are you here?” Sam said.

  “Didn’t they explain on the phone?”

  “Not a whole lot.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Typical. Red tape will be the death of us all, I swear. I’m here to help with the Darkness. Well… against the Darkness, if you want to be grammatically picky.”

  “He usually does,” Dean said. “How d’you know about the Darkness?”

  “It’s something of an international problem?” She glanced around. “Look, perhaps we could talk somewhere a little more private? No need to scare the civilians.”

  Sam and Dean exchanged glances. “The car’s outside.”

Cas got out as they approached, and Dean saw the subtle movement as he retracted his angel blade. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.

  “You must be the angel Castiel,” Lancelot said with respect in her voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I am no longer an angel.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You seem to know a lot about us,” Sam said, tension threading through his voice.

  “We keep dossiers on all the hunters in this region. You two are top of the list, especially since you moved into the Kansas bunker.”

  “Speaking of,” Dean said, “before we let you in there - hell, before I let you ride in my car - we’re gonna need to test you.”

  “Of course,” Lancelot said easily and held out her hand. Her expression didn’t change as Sam cut her with silver and Dean poured holy water over her arm. “Want to test if I’m a leviathan, whilst you’re at it?”

  “You are not a leviathan,” Cas said gravely. “I would be able to tell if that were the case, even in my current condition.”

  “Great. Shall we? It was a long flight and I’d really like a shower.”

  “One more question,” Dean said. “When your office called, why’d they want to talk to Sam specifically?”

  Lancelot smiled brightly at him. “Everyone knows Sam’s the reasonable one.”

She climbed into the car and Dean looked at Sam, who was trying not to laugh.

  “I like her.”

  “Shut up. I can be reasonable.”

  “Of course you can, Dean,” Cas said, sounding remarkably patronising for such a sincere tone of voice.

  “Oh yeah,” Dean muttered, opening the driver’s door. “This is gonna be awesome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving kudos. It makes writers happy. :-)


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